


Dragon Age Prompts & Scrap Fics

by Ahab2631



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Insert author coughing quietly, Possibly written and posted by a ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahab2631/pseuds/Ahab2631
Summary: Filled prompts and pieces of fics which I want to post but don't know yet if they need their own home.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most everything should be pretty tame ratings wise, but I rated on the "better safe" side. As they're one-shots, nothing triggering should happen, but I'll do my best to post any warnings at the beginnings of chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old prompt from Tumblr, took a shot at it. It's... I tried to channel the style and fanservicey roots of the olde fic, to mixed results. And it isn't entirely AMV canon compliant, besides.
> 
> "Hi! :) Regarding "A Million Voices" if I can suggest, I would really love a Solas POV on the language spell scene and chapter 13. I've been craving his POV, but I guess you are holding back because of spoilers? Maybe after the cat's out of the bag you could consider it :3" -[Sassyseeker](https://sassyseeker.tumblr.com/)

It is easy to get the humans out of the room.

It is easy to get her to understand what I am offering. 

It is easy to use a spell on her I have used only once before, so long ago, before I kissed her like a savage. Everything had been a game to me then. Until....

It isn’t so different now, I suppose. But I do not wish to take from her. Not her. I want her to _see me._ Right here, in front of her, waiting for her to look.

My general. My friend. Twice, my… I cannot even think the word, but it is in whatever is left of my heart. Her shadow, her echo, written into the sinew. _This_ woman. Millennia of watching her, waiting for a return of the spark which never came.

If this magic does not open her up, let her see the truth, even if she has indeed not yet lived it, the fury will at least tell me the rest of the tale. This Nuaelan was always easy to bait, and anger will crack her faster than anything else. There is no time for patient reminders or coaxing in this decaying world. And the first time I used this spell, she had ended it by attacking me as savagely as she had met my kiss.

I think that had been the moment when the man I was had become hopeless for her.

She lets me coax her eyes closed and ease her lips apart, as tense and suspicious as she was in my own beginning with her, and for a moment, I feel strangely young, back on a field of grasses overlooking the drop from my lands. I let the truth of myself vibrate out before her, and I see her feel it.

True to the guise, the spell, a simple thing for calming and ease, slips past her lips and over her tongue, weaving down her throat. I take in her scent without meaning to, I cherish it, I savor it. It is the first time she has begun to feel like herself.

I feel her open, and I begin to remember hope.

_See me, vhenan._

There is the word.

She reaches out to me with everything, grasping for the truth, for the mooring that is there, waiting.

She tips her head up, her body echoing her spirit, and I am so close her lips brush mine.

 _‘Please,’_ she is telling me. ‘ _Please. I can feel it, what is it. Just… closer. Please, closer.’_

It is not a choice to stop the magic and lean in. It is not a choice to offer.

_‘I am right here. It is here. Reach out. Take it back._

_‘See me._

_‘Return.'_

I nip gently at her bottom lip - to her, the beat of the bird’s wing which begins the avalanche. I remember.

It is not a choice the way my chest sears when she responds, when she ignites, unleashing strength she does not know she has to pull my face closer to hers, to lock it there, to grip and pull _me_ closer, to demand in every way _more._

She is pressed against a wall. Like the first time, exactly like the first time. She needs, she is ravenous, and I meet her in kind.

Our breaths mingle, fast and sharp, our hearts race through us, my hands–

She starts. She yanks herself back. She unclasps her fists from my shirt, pulls her arms from around me, and shoves me away, as she did that day on the grass.

Unlike that day, she spares me the force spell to my middle, and the crack of her fist lands on my jaw, rather than my nose. She has forgotten her strength, or I would have bone to heal.

“Tell me you can at least understand me now after that bullshit,” she spits at me, her voice working as furiously as her lungs. It is so much the same that for a moment, we are not in this broken world at all, not indoors, not smothered and small.

I take a moment to touch my lip and look down at the blood on my fingers, to remind myself of reality. Of place and time. A reminder I could not have imagined ever needing.

The bitterness and anger that come are so familiar. The cool which swallows it is much the same.

The conversation from there is not difficult. Pulling myself away, telling more lies…no. Certainly not… difficult.

Certainly not “easy.”

I have killed pieces of myself before. Many times. 

I have killed… so many things.

As I walk to the door to usher the humans back in before they give in to the urge to burst through it regardless, however, determination somehow sets in among the dead leaves.

I must restore the world. Restoring this _,_ restoring _her…_ it can only help, can it not? 


	2. *coughing fit*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A clueless (but not braindead or incompetent) ingenue-type Dalish lady comes across two strangely large elves bickering in fluent elvhen, fangirls out, sneaks closer to listen, and it naturally goes wrong from there.
> 
> Swears in here. Because ahab has a filthy mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based rather heavy-handedly off [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466667/chapters/19397446) and its Aili and Uthvir. 
> 
> I needed to try something (and a character) lighthearted and basically in every way the opposite of what I usually write. It was originally intended to be a co-write with internet wife, so I just blathered out notes and ideas at her for a few pages and... the quirkiness needed to be preserved. 
> 
> Quirk is good for the soul.
> 
> Dedicated to beloved internet wife, it's only a thing because she said she needed it in her life, and I do what she says. 
> 
> You may gifts to her. She is worthy of them. Yes.

Story start:  
At recent arlath’ven’whatever (Arlathvhen), MC heard story of big ruins. A clan passing through found them, but for whatever reason didn’t/couldn’t explore, made note of them. Took her a while to convince her Keeper to let her go, but she so sneak and capable. Clan keeps themselves soso far from others, and she is good da’len, would not do anything stupid, so allowed to go alone. Plenty of people - all boys - volunteered, but for whatever reason they weren’t allowed to come. Is fine, her clan is her favorite, but is so hard to get quiet time.

Ruins are bigger than she could have imagined, a whole town, maybe a small city, but most of it is hidden or buried; the others actually undersold it.

She’s on day four of exploring, but a preternatural wind is building, and she wants to get back to camp in case tree limbs start falling. She hears voices, realizes they’re speaking fluent freaking elvhen, gets all squee and excite and starry-eyed, sneaks closer, silently climbs a big, sturdy tree to watch and listen. Has to get closer than she’d like, but in her experience, no one ever thinks to look up. Besides, even on the most quiet days, she can be silent when she moves.

They’re not dalish, and are bigger and more broad than any elf she has ever seen. Are they city elves? No one said anything about city elves being giants.

They sound like they’re having a polite, casual conversation, right up until she’s close enough to make out what words she can. Noise aside, she doesn’t think even the Keeper knows so many words.

Bald elf: “--aid, I do not answer to you.”

Elf with some kind of pretty hair: “And here I __ you a loyal __ of the Inquisition.” The last word is in Common, and MC stops breathing. The gathering of the clans brought word of the Inquisition. It was largely agreed that it was led by an elf, and that the dalish should stay far away from it. It reeked of a forming Exalted March.

Hair-elf smiles benignly and goes on, “Not a--”

She blinks and flushes.

She can’t have heard that right.

No one would say such a foul thing - such a foul string of things - in such a sweet voice.

“Then again,” he says, “when you’re ___ing to destroy ___ own people, I __________ surprised you want to sneak ____ sleep in some filthy ruins and pret______ past away. But ___ what ___ to do here, _____.”

Bald elf says, as if complimenting the other man’s choice of tunic, “_____ humble ____. If you are too simple to ____, ______ dire indeed.”

Nonsense carries on, reaction, when suddenly: SNEAKYDEMONAPPROACH!

They both know, of course, but silently make of it a game of chicken, pretending they don’t know it’s there. It’s a baby thing anyway, and they left the others behind so don’t have to pretend to be wee weak mortal things.

She does not know this.

She is torn.

She promised, _promised_ not to interact with _anyone._ But… but… elves. Fellow elves. Danger. And it’s just wifting closer and they’re so busy with their marital spat or whatever that they don’t....

Closer.....

The Keeper will kill her.

“Creators above and below, _get down!”_ she yells, exasperated, at the two idiots, who naturally do not get down, but rather look up at her without moving, where she’s perched right above them, in time to see the dagger leave her hand.

She left her supplies - and bow - when she heard the men. She is in no position to call anyone an idiot.

The demon takes her dagger in the face, but she doesn’t get to see if that’s what kills it.

The man with hair is a mage. Which she discovers when a disembodied force _yanks_ her from the tree, to a stop two inches in front of him.

She can’t move.

His face is cold stone, like he’s not even a person, until it abruptly cracks into a smile that makes her _decidedly_ nervous. And also somehow vaguely uncomfortable. And her chest goes all squeezy.

His eyes are somewhere between blue and purple, like ripe berries, with flecks of blood red in them. They dart a little over her vallaslin before fixing back on her eyes.

He inhales deeply and looks her up and down.

“I didn’t hear you,” he says in Common. “I didn’t see you. Are you a ghost?”

He sounds like he finds it funny. The way he didn’t sound like he was hurling insults at the bald man. Who, by the way, is doing nothing to help her.

“Er… obviously not. I’d poke you to prove it if I could move,” she says pointedly.

He releases her after a second, but she keeps her hands to herself.

She isn’t sure he knows what blinking is.

She turns enough to confirm that the bald man is behind her.

“Would you move where I can see you? That’s… very creepy.”

He arches a brow, but obliges, though he doesn’t stand very close to the other man.

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at them both, breathing too fast. “If I were a ghost, I’d haunt you both for being so stupid.”

 _Both_ the bald man’s eyebrows go up, and the other one’s mouth pops open.

“What are your names?” she demands, breathing too fast. She probably has angry splotches of color on her face, and her hair is wild from the wind.

They don’t answer (they are both thinking it would probably be best to kill her, but don’t want to for different reasons. Possibly also same reasons), and she narrows her eyes in a look she’s learned from years of corralling children who don’t think bedtimes or rules about staying in camp are in any way reasonable. Or mandatory.

The bald man’s lips quirk. “My name is Solas.”

“...Your name is Pride?”

He inclines his head in a sort of crooked nod. “Your grasp of the language is better than most. I trust it made your eavesdropping more enjoyable?”

Her face heats all over again, but she only looks at the other man.

“....Ha’rol’dh.”

Solas openly scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, wolf,” Ha’rol’dh says without taking his eyes off of her.

Out of the blue, he tells her, “You are extremely beautiful.”

There is more blushing.

“And you’re still an idiot! Fine, you’re a mage, but do your Creators-damned ears work? Your eyes? That thing,” she jabs at where her dagger lies on the ground, “was two feet from you when I had to step in! And you can’t follow simple instructions! I don’t know who you think you are, but you don’t come out into the woods if you can’t even take care of yourselves! It’s dangerous out here!”

She’s breathing hard, all righteous anger and scolding, and then Haroldh (I am not typing that shit out every time) throws his head back and _laughs._ His… he has an adam’s apple. It bobs.

She blinks at it, and notices Solas has one, too.

“Are… are you city elves?” she asks, bewildered. “How are you so....” she gestures vaguely at them. “You’re huge!”

Solas puts his face in his hand. His shoulders twitch once.

Haroldh cannot seem to breathe, and he’s started to laugh so hard he’s crying.

Solas glowers down at him and says something so fast in Elvhen that it sounds incomplete and disjointed. She picks out the word “do,” but can’t make out a single noun. It just sounds like gibberish.

The wind is getting worse.

When Haroldh can breathe again, he looks up at a flummoxed MC and walks up, throws an arm around her shoulders, and declares, _“You_ are spending the night. You’re all alone in said dangerous woods, we have a warm camp with supplies waiting, and we obviously need protecting.”

It’s quiet for a second, and he snaps something at Solas as if the other man said something.

She looks down. They seem nice enough - and clearly friendly; Haroldh’s arm is still around her - if really very stupid. And strange. She did promise not to speak to anyone, but that’s already done, and they know so much of the language.....

She sighs, beleaguered, and moves away, grabbing up her dagger as she goes. “Let me get my bag.” On second thought, she stops and eyeballs them. “...You should probably come with me. And stay close.”

“Oh,” Haroldh says. “Oh, morsel.”

Solas sighs again, loudly, and invites Haroldh to take up the rear.

\- -

There are shem with them - and a dwarf! - but they were welcoming enough. No fangs or blood red eyes or anything, but they’ve all gone to bed. Solas and Haroldh appear to be night owls.

Haroldh has been eager to learn anything she wants to share about her secluded clan - she doesn’t say where it is, but supposes anything else is fine; they’re fellow elves and they want to learn - and _especially_ their teachings about the old world and the Creators.

Solas… he does not look happy. Moreso the more she talks. But he stays and even asks questions. She tries to get him to talk, too, which he does _at length_ once he gets going, But the only time he seems happy, or at least more in that direction, is when he starts to teach her the Elvhen she begs to learn. He’s really very good at it, too.

He is not as friendly as Haroldh - shy, maybe? - who sits close to keep her warm, and brushes away her hair any time it falls into her face. Other elves are even more like her clan that she was taught, obviously. They recognize a sister.

At some point:

H: “And what are your thoughts on the Dread Wolf?” *shit-eating grin, leaning forward with chin on hand as if he’s waiting on bated breath*

MC: *gets srsface look* “We don’t speak his name in my clan.”

H: “Not even to curse? :DD”

MC: *frowns, so srs* “Not even to curse.”  
“…”  
“Why do you look so happy? o_O”

Solas: *quiet-but-not-quiet-enough derisive scoff*

MC: *to S, so surprise* “You don’t agree, hahren?”

S: “I am merely disappointed. But I suppose I should have known better than to assume any one of your people was capable of thinking for themselves.”

MC: “He _destroyed_ our people. Our safety, our way of life. Everything we lost is because of his selfish actions.”

H: *so very not at all smiling anymore*

MC: *trying to figure out why everyone got so quiet and weird all of a sudden*

H: *glances at Solas, then back to MC.*  
*slow, evil smile*  
“You should join us.” *totally villain-laughing inside*

MC: *gape!*

Solas: *lowkey look of murder*

H: “You should _definitely_ join us. Actually, just me, sod the rest.” *leans in and lowers voice so she has to get closer, too* “I’ll tell you a secret. I don’t care about the humans. In fact, I have a list of several I plan on stabbing repeatedly at my earliest convenience. How fun would it be to use them the way they think they’re using me? To right the world to how it should be? A world for the elves?”

(I feel like I’m making him too manipulatey smart but I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STOP. How to make more cute and murdery or whatever? SO LOST SEND HELP Needs to be more like “You join us now, yes” *drags her off by arm* But then also that would not work either. ...You can ignore this, welcome to my inner flailing. ......Now ask my why I didn’t just delete this entire aside, then. DON’T ASK ME ACTUALLY BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW OK)

Solas: *so scoffing tonight* “And what would she do?”

MC, arch, not missing a beat: “I snuck up on you, didn’t I? The leader of the shem Inquisition and its best mage?”

H: To Solas, “See?” Immediately to MC, “See? There we have it.” ‘Welcome to my Inquisition, new sister or whatever. Woo, racial camaraderie, we are totally the same -_-’  
*stands up and stretches, 100% to show off. Which totally works, and lo she is such a blusher. Grins down at her. “Want to come show me what you can do now? ...Or are you more a fan of delayed gratification?”

MC: *blink blink* “I haven’t said yes.” _*So painfully obviously_ wants to say yes* “Keeper would _kill_ me. And even if I did say yes, wouldn’t it... make more sense to do an assessment in full light? When you can, you know, see things? With your eyes? Because of how eyes work?”

H: *wide smile that would concern anyone with any sense* “I can’t say I hate the idea of seeing everything.”

MC: *gives him look like wtf is wrong with you? Glances at Solas like “Bruh help me out here what am I missing.”

S: *refuses to help, looks deeply pained*

H: *crouches down in front of her, fire lighting him up from behind, settles his hands on the backs of her calves, massages them a little and rubs them with his thumbs as he talks. His voice goes low and quiet. “Tell me your keeper wouldn’t be proud of you. Tell me you don’t want to take back what belongs to your people.”

 _“Our_ people,” she immediately and firmly corrects.

She doesn’t see the way Solas looks away. Looks sad.

She purses her lips and looks down, thinking. She glances over at Solas, who for some reason won’t look at her. She looks back up at Haroldh and moves a bit of hair out of his face, touching his cheek a little as she tucks it behind his ear. Her fingers brush its edge right as a chill goes over him.

She frowns. “Do you want a blanket?” He’s close to the fire and the wind is long gone, but if he’s not used to the wilds, he might still be cold.

He laughs a little bit, but it doesn’t seem like anything is funny. “I’m not cold, rabbit.” He brushes his thumb over her chin (it’s right below her lips but idt she would see any significance in that so.... It’s not the first POV omission I’ve made, obvs xD)

She tilts her head, looking a little worried now, and a little confused. “Is your throat sore?”

H over here like girl are you freaking for real.

Solas is in physical goddamned pain.

MC wonders what in the void is wrong with the two of them. She gives a questioning look to H and indicates Solas with her eyes.

H: *waves a hand* “Chronic constipation*

MC: *DDD:* “I know some herbs, Solas, I can make some tea!”  
*at H, who is legit dying inside* “It’s not funny, what is wrong with you! D: It’s serious, my sister once--”

H: *so interrupt* “Do you have _any_ idea how badly I want to find creative ways to shut you up.”

S: *nostril flare for the ages*

MC: *frowns* “You’re the one who’s been asking me questions all night.” *straightens* “If my voice is so offensive, maybe you should be honest about what you want and stop giving me mixed signals.”

*They are _going. To have. Strokes._ Both of them. At the same time.*

H looks at her like omg do you actually.... Are you for freaking serious right now. You really don’t get this, you’re not even joking. ...How do I find that strangely endearing, why is it endearing that’s disgusting. This is disgusting. I feel dirty. And I have done some _filthy-ass depraved things_ ok. Sex things. Also not-sex things. Also how is it somehow making you hotter, what is this.*

*MC puts back of her hand to his forehead and he has out-of-body experience. This has to be a nightmare. He fell asleep and Pride is screwing with him in the Fade. Pride knows he didn’t tell Sera to keep filling his cups and waterskins with tea, but he doesn’t care. ...Maybe he knows he told her how much he hates the stuff, though. ...Worth it. That pinched and murderously annoyed look on his face was perfect.*

\- -

Later same night. MC wants to think but is too polite to fuck off or whatever, and neither of them will leave because the other refuses to go. Solas must protect the new shiny from H, who is enjoying getting on his nerves and for some reason this lady is really, really good at helping him do that and holy shit so funny. Also honestly just… stupid hot. And also something else, but he doesn’t know what and doesn’t want to.

S: *stuff about stories being metaphors and broken lines of history and stuff. She’s much smarter than she seemed at first. Maybe... maybe she might....*

MC: has to admit he right, but suspiciously since he seems to think all her beliefs are a joke. But you can’t win people over by arguing with them, and it’s not his fault he doesn’t know better. And since she knows more, it’s her responsibility to teach him, that’s how it works.

S: *talks convincingly about stuff, answers her rebuttal questions with same power of convince and logic. Like for instance Slow Arrow story. How does that make any sense? What if instead, say, the children were slaves and the adults slavers? Even the old world had its evils. Her grasp of the language is decent - doesn’t “Harel” have more than one meaning, after all?*

MC: *opens mouth to reply*  
“.....”  
*closes mouth*  
*rinse and repeat*  
*stares at him slightly horrified, seems to have forgotten how to make wordsounds with facehole*

Solas: *oddly and totally smugly satisfied*

H: *Not fucking laughing, all quiet simmering hatred, probably picking at his nail with a freakishly sharp canine and thinking where he’d like to put it. Also roughly 100 dull knives.*  
“And how would you ‘interpret’ the story of him singlehandedly being responsible for the fall of the People and their entire empire,” he switches to obscure Elvhen “you overstuffed bald *bleep bleep* asshole?”

MC magically recovers voice long enough to ax, “Did you just call him an asshole?”

H: “No.”

S: “...”

MC: *looks at Solas with pleadingface*

S: “...I would offer only that such things are rarely so simple as they seem.”

MC: *back to looking like her brain done broke. Possibly also a piece of her heart.* “If.... But....” She’s not dumb. She can’t deny there are missing pieces of their history. It has been wholly ripped from them so many times, how could there not be?

How can this reframing of everything she knows somehow make _more_ sense than....

One thing is clear. These men know things about the People no one, not her Keeper, not the other Keepers at the Arlathvhen know. They may not be right about everything, but shouldn’t they collect every piece of information they can? And Solas can walk the Fade and see living memories from the first days.

Haroldh cares about the People. He wants them restored. He’s in a position to _do_ something about it.

And they may both be mages, they may know things she doesn’t, but really are both also clearly helpless idiots.

...The Keeper is legitimately going to kill her.

Haroldh (is this legit just his name now? xD It’s horrible and that fact is making me oddly love it) offers to share his tent with her.

MC: *shakes head* If the wind comes back, it might be bitterly cold, but, “I don’t know if I’ll sleep much tonight.”

H: Just…  
Fucking....  
*...Turns and walks away. There is literally nothing else he can even*


End file.
